Of Whitebark Pine and the Amazing Axolotl

Last week, I had the chance to reflect on whitebark pine and the Axolotl, a rare salamander that has the unique ability to re-grow dismembered limbs.  I was out near Axolotl Lakes in southwest Montana, where these unique creatures reside, with some of the members of “Team Whitebark,” folks dedicated to the future of whitebark pine ecosystems. For the past several years, we have been collecting data on whitebark pine forests, which are increasingly imperiled by an unprecedented climate-driven mountain pine beetle outbreak, an introduced pathogen, and warming trends that could force these forests over the tops of even the highest peaks in the Northern Rockies. 

Wally Macfarlane, David Gonzales, Whitney Leonard and I had the luxury of staying at a cabin belonging to the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), an agency which has been increasingly involved in whitebark pine monitoring and restoration work.  The BLM graciously allowed us to stay in what was formerly a private summer home, perched at the top of the Gravelly Mountains, a kind of “ground zero” for whitebark, a range that has been hit hard by both blister rust and beetles.  The cabin looked down at Axolotl Lakes, named for a member of the Tiger Salamander family, which lives in pristine high-elevation lakes.  This type of salamander spends its whole life in the larval form under water—forever young, a kind of Peter Pan of the animal kingdom.  One of the really amazing things about the Axolotl is that it can completely re-grow limbs if one gets cut off.

Too bad, I thought, that whitebark, a keystone species and  one of the elder statesmen of the plant community in the Northern Rockies, lacks this ability.  Too bad that whitebark stems hit by blister rust or beetles can’t just re-grow…

So what did we find in our foray into the whitebark pine forests?  Silence, deep as a tomb, even in an area in the nearby Tobacco Roots where there were still some healthy whitebark – where, at this time of year, we should have heard the lively chatter of squirrels and nutcrackers harvesting and caching whitebark seeds, and seen signs of bears raiding squirrel  caches.  Instead, we found scentless and silent areas so still that even our two dogs dozed off.  A couple chipmunks, a distant nutcracker— that was about it.  Yes, there was an eerie beauty in these trees’ ghostly shapes… but the bottom line is that we were studying a graveyard of beings that had flourished here before Europeans had set foot on the continent, but were no match for the beetle infestation unleashed here in just the last decade.

This work was part of a bigger effort this summer to ground-truth the assessment we developed last year in collaboration with the U.S. Forest Service, aerially evaluating whitebark pine damage from mountain pine beetles.  Our colleagues have been finding that many areas that had been relatively lightly hit last year were in worse shape this year, as the mountain pine beetle epidemic continues to bleed the precious remaining healthy forests. 

We have also been experimenting with new “citizen science” efforts to analyze at the consequences of whitebark pine damage on the activity of squirrels and Clark’s nutcrackers.  Clark’s nutcrackers are the engine that drives the health of whitebark pine ecosystems, as they feed on and cache whitebark pine seeds in the harsh, high-elevation areas in the range of whitebark and other pine forests.  As a Corvid, or crow relative, nutcrackers are considered one of the smartest in the animal kingdom; they remember the locations of many of their caches, returning to feed on them later—but fortunately for the whitebark pine, they do forget where a number of them are.  Out of the nutcracker caches spring new whitebark shoots, often in clusters.  So, if you come across a cluster of ancient whitebark, some many hundreds of years old, you are seeing the telltale signs of nutcrackers that pre-date Europeans’ arrival on this continent. The squirrel provides a convenient service to itself and to other animals, by dropping the cones to the ground and caching them for winter. Whitebark pine cones grow at the top of the trees, which – without the squirrel’s help – would make for difficult foraging of the tree’s nutritious, high-fat seeds by black and grizzly bears, as well as many other species. 

So, looking at squirrels and Clark’s nutcracker activity is a way of gauging the overall health of whitebark forests.  In this work, we’ve been collaborating with TreeFight, which has gotten a lot of enthusiastic citizens out into the field, as well as Round River, under the leadership of former NRDC intern Dena Adler and Colin Peacock.  While healthy whitebark refuges have been found this summer in the Wind Rivers and Beartooths, other areas, like the Gros Ventres, are lit up as if on fire, ablaze with orange needles, the telltale sign of recent beetle killed whitebark.

After returning from the trip, thinking about the Axolotl’s advantage, I did a little research on Axolotls, also known as the “Mexican walking fish”.  Bummer.  Unfortunately, the Axolotl in Mexico, where it was originally discovered, is in rough shape too as a result of pollution of the high-elevation water bodies where it lives.  There may be only 1,200 Axolotls left in the wild in Mexico according to a recent study.  It turns out the Axolotl “advantage” may not be enough to save the species. 

For both the Axolotl and the whitebark, it’s human activity, particularly greenhouse gases and other pollution, that is the heart of the problem.   We have met the enemy and yes, as Pogo says, it is us.  What is happening to these species is yet another reason to live more simply and sustainably, and to prompt industry to do the same through passage of comprehensive climate change legislation.  Like the spirit of Christmas future in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, the whitebark pine and the axolotl are showing us the kind of world we could face if we don’t take action now.

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